


Feet

by legolastariel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark Thoughts, Fear, M/M, POV Daryl, POV First Person, flight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: “Go now!”That’s what the note reads, that someone slipped underneath my cell door along with the key. My feet seem to have a mind of their own today. The thought is there, of course. The thought – and fear – of what Negan is gonna do to me, if he catches me, but still my feet keep moving towards the exit. I need to get out of here.  Daryl is running. He got out of his cell and his feet take him towards the exit, eager to go home. But there are people on his mind, people that mean the world to him. And his escape could cause another disaster.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on episode 7x7
> 
> Not beta'ed, so aaalll the typos and the _interesting_ use of the English language are on me. :-)
> 
> P.S. I still love feedback, folks. :-) Thanks for reading!

**Feet**  


 

         _“Go now!”_

That’s what the note reads, that someone slipped underneath my cell door along with the key. I don’t even have to make an educated guess, who it was – Sherry, maybe even Dwight. 

I get it now. All of it. Why they did what they did. Why they are still doing what they do. – Because they have to. Because they’ve run out of choices. As soon as there’s someone you’re thinking of, someone whose life is more important to you than your own, you run out of choices. I know the feeling. 

I open the door quietly and slowly, peek outside and up and down the corridor. No one is there. I gotta try or I may wind up in that cell or at the fence, just like Dwight predicted. Or worse – I may give in. 

I believe Sherry meant it when she told me she was sorry. She is. Dwight may be, too. In a way, despite what they’ve done to me and despite the fact that he killed Denise, I am sorry, too.   
For them. For what they are going through. And for hating them the way I did. Having to live like that does change people, has them do things they wouldn’t, if they were as blessed as we are in Alexandria. The people back home – they see the wall and the world beyond and think living in an apocalypse was reason to complain. They have no idea what the apocalypse can look like within other walls. They’ve got paradise back home and they don’t even know it.

I hurry down the corridor as quickly and quietly as only possible, just like the last time. Peeking around corners, hiding in shadows and doorways when footsteps approach, but no one sees me. The exit is near. 

This time I’m gonna make it. Negan isn’t here and I haven’t given him any reason to think I was gonna try an escape again. I played along. Did whatever he wanted me to – safe for denying who I am. That I will never do. I can’t.   
Everybody seems to be very busy today, eager to get their jobs done as best as only possible. The image of what happened to Mark is still etched into everybody’s memory, and no one wants to give Negan a reason to punish them while the iron is still hot. There’s no one in these corridors just _hanging out_. This is my chance.

My feet seem to have a mind of their own today. The thought is there, of course. The thought – and fear – of what Negan is gonna do to me, if he catches me, but still my feet keep moving towards the exit.   
I need to get out of here. I need to go home. I never thought I would actually miss that crowded place, but I do. No, it’s not the place I miss – it’s Rick. I wouldn’t even have to ask to _know_ how he feels, what he is going through right now. And I think he needs a hug. In all these years we’ve never hugged, no matter what happened. Maybe I’m not the type. Maybe he isn’t. And maybe things just weren’t _really_ bad before. They are now.   
I know _I_ need a hug. From him. Need to see his face, hear his voice – just need _him._ My feet are moving faster.

I've reached the door. It’s unlocked and when I cautiously look outside, again there’s no one there. Can it be that easy?

I hurry along the exterior wall of the complex, my heart in my mouth. The coast is clear. Negan’s not here. I just need to make it over the fence.

My mind is already racing ahead, but suddenly my feet are getting slower. 

_ Negan’s not here _ , but he’s got Carl with him. He may in fact have taken him home, but he’s not gonna let him stay. He’s gonna rub it in Rick’s face, that he’s got his son, too, now.

My stomach cramps. 

Carl tried to _shoot_ Negan. That bastard has killed people for far less, so what is the punishment for an attempted assassination? The scenarios that play out in my mind have me cringe. Carl. Rick. Li’l asskicker. My family! 

I need to get back there. I need to do something. I gotta stop him.   
But my feet have stopped dead in their tracks and won’t move an inch anymore. 

I can’t leave. 

The moment Negan finds me gone, he’ll know where I am. Alexandria is the first place he’s gonna go looking for me and he will find me, too, no matter where I hide. I am not escaping a cell to live in a closet or basement from now on. And even those places wouldn’t be safe.  
I am an orange situation. I know what happens to people who cause that kind of trouble. The iron, the loss of a limb, the fence – or worse. 

And there _is_ worse. Negan would have killed Olivia, because of two missing guns. What is he going to do, if he finds me hiding in Alexandria?   
He made it clear to Rick, that he expects _everybody_ to be on board, to obey the rules. Me running or them hiding me is everybody _not_ obeying the rules.   
Is he going to punish Rick or force him to chop pieces off of me the way he has threatened? Is he going to kill him? Or Carl?

I could go someplace else, but that doesn’t change a thing. He will come back here, with Carl, and I’d be gone. He may take it out on the boy. Rick’s son. _Our_ son. And even if he spares him – I can’t leave him in all of this alone. I just can’t. 

I got no place to go. No way to get out of here without someone getting hurt and I’ve sworn to myself, that I will never again see anyone getting hurt on account of me.   
I’ve run out of choice, too, because I’m thinking of someone else. Someone, whose life is more important to me than my own. 

My feet turn around and take me back inside. I return to my cell as quickly and quietly as I’ve left there, lock the door behind me and push the key underneath the door, while swallowing the note. It looks like someone just lost that key there. No big deal. Nothing happened. No orange situation. The prisoner is safely locked away.   
Rick’s safe. Carl’s safe. So I am, too. 

For now, I best keep my feet still and securely on the ground. I’ve got at least one ally in here, maybe two and maybe in time there’ll be even more.   
And one day the chance will come to put these feet to good use. – Not for running, but for kicking ass.  



End file.
